I needed to drive 500 miles to save my family from an impending storm (hurricane). I own two trucks. My GMC has no working dashboard. That means no way to monitor gas, temp, oil pressure, or speed. It has no radio. No air conditioning. No heat. Windshield wiper motors are completely shot. All four headlights are loose because the mounts are broken and are pointing in 4 different directions. The dimmer switch is also broken and if I put the lights on bright, they cut off completely in about 5 minutes. I can see the ground through the floorboard and it has no reverse until the engine has been running for about ½ hour. Also, the ignition switch is broken, and I crank it by putting two dangling wires together on the steering column. But… it has a brand-new engine with only about 2000 miles on it. It gets 8 miles to a gallon of gas.

My Dodge truck on the other hand has all this stuff working… except the heat and the radio. It gets 15 miles to a gallon of gas and can only be cranked with a key.

Choosing the right truck for the trip would seem obvious to any rational thinking person…right? But I am not rational. Why? Because I learned from the news there was a huge spike in highway deaths caused by drunk drivers. It seemed to me that regardless of what I drove, where I drove or how I drove that it was almost certain I was going to be hit by a drunk driver. Everything I learned told me this was almost an absolute. It was a fact. The news hammered me with this every day on TV. I was scared to death.

So, similar to a decision to having the election and trying to decide which vote engine to use, why would I choose the GMC truck to drive for such an important trip? All logic tells me to drive the more proven and dependable truck (Dodge). Yet, I pushed, I forced and I demanded that this important trip was best suited for my barely functioning GMC truck. My only reason used for my bad decision was because the inflated (manufactured) rave by the media which scared the hell out of me regarding a huge spike of new car accidents on the highway I plan to travel on caused by drunk drivers and figured it was better to lose the GMC instead of the Dodge when one of these drunks ran head-on into my truck on this most important long trip. So, in essence, I was planning for a car wreck instead of saving my family from the storm.

So there I was, the trip was over (interrupted) and I was broken down about halfway there and my family was screaming for help in the middle of a storm. I look around and could see I didn’t arrive at the correct destination. I did however, by some form of miracle, avoid a wreck from drunk drivers. In fact, I never even saw one wreck on the trip. Yet there I was.

So, I did what any smart country boy would do, I called a mechanic. That is where we really are in our election process too. And guess what? The mechanic is telling me all the things that are wrong with my truck. But I already knew this. I then silenced the mechanic because if word got out about the extremely disabled state of my transportation then I will either look stupid for my decision to drive it or worse, it will look like I deliberately sabotaged the trip. Even more likely that the highway patrol (if they knew) would come lock me up for putting such a heap on the road at all. All my friends and particularly my family would question my sanity regarding WHY on earth I would chose such a bad truck to travel so far (at the last minute) and I would have no rational answer… except of course, to sacrifice the barely functional truck to a drunk driving accident.

In retrospect I had to consider some things. First, the GMC truck was fine for small jobs around the farm but it was completely unproven for use on the highway for long trips. Secondly, I overlooked the fact anyone could crank it and drive it when I wasn’t looking. Third, although I was headed into a storm to rescue my family I just incorrectly assumed it would stop raining by the time I left so I wouldn’t need any windshield wipers so I could see and navigate clearly. The mechanic told me what I already knew. It was a stupid decision. But my mechanic, and any other mechanics who would publicize how badly my GMC truck performed… well, I made sure they were handled and didn’t talk. I had some blackmail available for that. I knew all their corrupt tricks to rip off stranded motorists. My blackmail wasn’t only for the mechanics but for all the folks in the media who might tell their story. I had to make sure the facts were buried and law enforcement (and my family) -or voters, remained oblivious to the truth.

Hey, I’m not stupid. I knew what I was doing. Granted it may look like my attitude was “screw my family” since I knew I would never finish the trip nor would I get there in time to help them. But that isn’t the case at all. I knew exactly what I was doing. You see, I knew a great gal who lived about halfway there. She was ready to party. I love a good party. What I really wanted was to arrive at her house and par-tay. I achieved my objective. The outcome I wanted happened. It was no accident. I planned it. I made the choice.

I overlooked one very important detail in my planning. My family is very pissed and are going to hunt me down, have me arrested and send me to a mental institution. But no worries. I am safe. Well, I’m safe until everybody discovers the truth. In the meantime, I’m going to par-tay like it’s 1999!!! Which leads me to this. What are the last words you hear just before a redneck dies? “Hey watch this!” It is the same for corrupt elections except they say, “Hey watch this! Not that!”

…and there you have it. A Southern boy’s view of a corrupt election. We got in and drove the wrong damn truck!